In the quiet of a late terminal, small movements and reflections no longer align as they should.

In the quiet machinery of a hospital room, breath becomes the only measure that matters. Monitors, pressure, oxygen, and a single circle of light hold the body in place while language begins to break ...

“Ruthless attention,” Voigt called it — the discipline to see what is there and what is not. Whether describing a difficult scene or a troubling interior state, she believed accuracy itself could be a...

If you enjoyed ‘After the Storm’, you might like Day-Possum, Morning River Notes, or A Tiny Deity. They all involve observation and a positive emotional turn. Here’s something I wrote as a craft exerc...

A poem set in the afternoon heat, where humidity climbs and the sky darkens. A bank of pewter cloud muscles across the horizon from the south. Wind rises through the square as a man begins strange ges...

An observational poem: rowers adrift mid-river, oars forgotten, a magpie watching in the afternoon stillness.

In the cooking room, the kettle begins to sing, and her voice answers — calling a name I no longer trust belongs to me.

City bridge after hours: mattress, tent, algae-slick rocks. The light cuts, metal scrapes, light returns—and the scene holds.

In the concrete tunnel between the library and the theatre, fibreglass whales hang from steel cables, their recorded song groaning through the space. At night it becomes a gauntlet. But today, another...

A poem of moons and tides, of memory’s splinters and small betrayals that lodge like hooks, refusing to leave.